The Many Cloaks of a Librarian

Tiffany re-adjusted her shawl and smoothed her hair in the reflection of the library door, then pushed it open and walked inside. The aroma of books surrounded her. She closed her eyes for a moment and breathed in. 

“Can I help you?”

The voice startled her, and she turned toward the desk. The guy behind it had his feet, boots and all, up on the table. One of his hands held a book while the other swiped a lock of greasy hair away from his eyes as he stared at her. He repeated his question, slower.

“Can…I…help…you?”

“Oh, um, not really. My name’s Tiffany. I’m new here, and I wanted to check out the library.” She smiled, trying not to show the agitation that was growing the longer she looked at this guy. His jeans were dirty and torn at both knees, his Tshirt was wrinkled, and that awful hair… 

“Nice to meet ya, Tiff. Name’s Mark. If you find a book, I’ll check it out—if you don’t, leave. And be quiet. This part is intense.” He nodded a farewell and returned his gaze back to his book. 

She frowned. “What if I can’t find what I’m looking for?”

He didn’t even look up. “Sucks to be you.”

She bit her lip and turned around. The rows of shelves were filled with orderly lines of books. She wandered down one aisle after another, ran her fingers along the spines, and peeked into all the corners. There were a few people reading in the scattered chairs, but not one of them said a word. It was almost eerie. 

None of the books caught her eye. She reached the farthest corner and gave a little sigh, then threaded her way back toward the door. She rounded a corner and jumped. The librarian guy stood in front of her. 

“How fast do you read?”

“Um, pretty fast. I can get through about a book a week.”

“Cool. Do you like dystopian?”

“I think so? I’ve only ever read a few—“

He thrust three books into her arms. “Have you ever read these?”

The first cover read The Maze Runner. The other two books were continuations. “Not yet; I’ll try them. Thanks!”

“I should have the next two finished when you’re ready for them. You’ll need to fill out for a new library card now though.” He retreated to his desk again.

She approached to find the form laid out for her. She filled all the blanks, he scanned her books through, and she left.

What a weird librarian. 

Three weeks later, she returned. This time she was greeted by the quiet noises of people chatting and laughing over their stories. A few kids were doing their homework at a table in the back. The guy behind the desk greeted her. His now clean, tousled hair bounced as nodded at her books.

“How did you like those?”

She placed them on the counter. “They were pretty good! Maybe not quite my style, but they kept me reading. It was an interesting storyline.”

“So do you want the other two then?”

“Does the story keep going?”

“They’re more like spinoffs.”

She pursed her lips. “I’ll try something else.” A book lying on the counter caught her eye. The worn paper cover showed a boy clutching a lightning bolt. “I’ve never read those. Are they good?”

“You’ve never read Percy Jackson?”

She rolled her eyes. “You sound just like my friends. Believe it or not, there are a lot of books I haven’t read yet. I’m working on it.”

“No better place to get started than here. They’re kids’ books, but they’re good.” He even smiled at her as she left.

I guess even librarians have bad days and good days.

She brought back the first few books and took out the rest of the series. When she brought those back, though, she had to do a double take. 

“Whoa. What happened to you?”

He looked up and smirked. The hoodie he had taken to wearing was replaced with a tweed suit jacket. His hair was slicked down and shiny with gel. Even his posture was corrected. “That’s a bold greeting.”

She looked away to conceal a blush. “I’m gonna be really busy these next couple weeks, but thanks for the recommendations.” She left without any books.

You have got to be kidding me. 

A few weeks passed, in which she was actually quite busy at work, but they passed nonetheless and she found herself with free time on her hands again. The town was still small and lacking any amusements. She set her course toward the library.

The lights were dimmed, and fake candles were set up across the desk. Their flickering light played tricks with her eyes, because it looked like one of the Nazgûl was sitting on the librarian’s chair. 

“Hello?”

“Good afternoon,” came a solemn voice from the Nazgûl, and the cowl was drawn back to show his woebegone face. “Is there anything I may assist you with?”

“Yeah, um, I need a new book to read.” 

“This current work is taking me some time to peruse.” He placed a thick copy of The Hunchback of Notre Dame on the table. “And I am afraid I have not read any other work recently; other than the one you did not like my outfit for, so you will most likely not enjoy it.”

“Wait—you dress depending on what you’re reading?”

His expression and manner dropped away as he straightened and made eye contact. “Yeah…I thought that was pretty obvious.”

“Oh.” She blushed again.

“Why, what did you think?”

“No, I liked the outfit. I thought—well, I thought—never mind.”

He burst into a laugh. “Did you think I was dressing up for you?”

She scowled. “The thought crossed my mind. Is that so strange?”

He tried to compose himself but couldn’t control the smirk that remained. “You had insufficient data to reason with before you reasoned, Watson.” He shrugged. “I’m just an odd duck.”

She sighed. “I’ve wanted to reread Sherlock Holmes again for a while. Give me the Adventures, the Memoirs, and the Return.”

“As you say, daughter.” With this, he hunched back into the sorrowful priest he was playing.

What a weird librarian. Kinda cool, but super weird.

Tiffany decided to take her books to the park instead of just going home and cuddling up in bed. The weather was warm enough now for a comfortable evening on a park bench.

The sun began to set, and a gentle breeze was blowing when a guy jogged past on the trail. She glanced up and immediately recognized the librarian. He passed her without noticing, but fifteen minutes later he was walking back. He caught her eye and pulled out his earbuds. 

“Mind if I sit?”

“Go ahead. I love to share park benches with weird librarians who have Dissociative Identity Disorder.”

He laughed. “That’s a lot of big words. Glad you don’t mind sharing your bench, though.”

“So who are you dressed as now?”

He looked down at his athletic wear. “Me, I think. One of me, anyway.”

She stuck her bookmark in and closed the book. “Then which you is the real you?”

“Now that is a good question! They all are, a bit. Everything I read becomes a part of me. I do it to show the kids how reading can change them.”

A family of ducks waddled in front of the bench, slowly making their way down to the creek. Tiffany watched them. “Sounds complicated.”

“Yeah. But it’s fun.”

“Doesn’t it ever get confusing?”

“Not really. I know I’m a child of God, so nothing else really matters. I always know what’s true.”

She looked at him, confused. 

He pulled a pocket-sized Bible from his pocket. “I think it’s time I introduced you to my favorite book.” 

This is why he's a librarian.